infernal
by SmilingCheshire
Summary: With a war that was never supposed to happen on the horizon, Nico di Angelo and Luke Castellan have to work together to save the world from Voldemort's wrath, and his hunt for a god's immortality.


The boy dressed in black held a sword, three feet of wicked sharp black iron, his lips twisted into something that that should have resembled a smile, but it looked foreign on his face, something never practiced, never mastered.

His companion was considerably less terrifying, though the scar that mutilated his face spoke of at least some skill with the silver and bronze sword planted in ground by his feet. He was older than the boy next to him by at least five years. There was a sort of open hostility between the two, they didn't trust each other, but it was obvious the younger of the two was in charge.

"Tom." Neither of the two opened their mouth but that it didn't matter, the voice was a female's. Tom furrowed his brow, he hadn't seen nor sensed another person. "Tom Riddle," the voice says again, this time from behind him. Tom spun around, looking for the voice (later, he'd curse himself for turning his back on the enemy). He grew agitated quickly, he turned around to demand answers when he saw _her_.

A woman, undoubtedly the source of the voice, with familiar green eyes (Tom can't remember _where_ he know them from) and a hand on both the boy and the man's necks, poised as if she's about to slit their throats at a moment's notice.

An unpleasant feeling settles in Tom's stomach, it wasn't a familiar feeling but he knew it was fear. It angered him slightly that this woman, of all people, could inspire more than he had ever felt in his entire life. He wanted to snap at her, to demand why she could cause such an emotion inside of him, but he could feel her overwhelming power, more than himself, and so much more than even Albus Dumbledore, who was the most powerful wizard Tom had ever met (or he was, at least), so he settled for an alternative, "Who are you?" He barely contained the " _What_ are you?" that would would have come after in normal circumstances.

"I am Hecate, the mother of all magic." Her tone was ominus and dangerous, and as if she could read his mind (she's probably a legilimens, or able to use it, a small voice in the back of his mind says), "You fear me because I am your creator, your master. I crafted your kind from the hearts of my demigod children, the blood of my worshippers, and the bones of my monsters. You are not demigods, humans, or monsters, you are something else entirely."

Hecate's hands slip from the necks of the boy and man (were they her minions?) and steps closer to Tom, neither her feet nor the long fabric of the dress she wears make a sound as she walks, not even the slightest _swish_. "If you make this decision, to make horcruxes, you will regret it." She looks calm but there a threatening undertone to it.

Anyone who knows what Hecate is know there is always some truth to her words, even when she is lying. "You are at a crossroads, boy, do not test my patience. Look on and chose your fate." There is a shift and everything around them blurs but when it stabilizes once again, Tom knows exactly where they are, he would never forget this place. Wool's Orphanage.

"Why are we here?" He demands, forgetting who is with for a minute. He glances over at Hecate, her face is a blank slate, giving Tom nothing.

"You are at a crossroads," Hecate repeats, "there are not only two ways you can go, there are always three."

"North." The front door flies pen, showing the drab streets of Muggle London, all of the buildings are grey and crumbling. There are homeless people milling around and other people - people with actual jobs - scurrying past, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone.

 _It's bleak_ , Tom thinks, _but it is an apt display of what muggles are actually like, cowardly and uncaring_.

Before Tom can make a snide remark, a scene starts to play in the doorway (almost like a movie).

 _A figure is kneeling on a forest floor (_ the Forbidden Forest, Tom realizes _), a unicorn is on the ground, it's throat has been slit. The figure leans down and begins to_ _ **drink**_ _the unicorn's blood._

"Who would dare drink such an animal's blood, do you wonder?" It isn't a question, she is making it very clear that _he_ is the one drinking the unicorn's blood.

Tom remembers something his Care of Magical Creatures professor said when he was still required to take that class, "Unicorn blood has life sustaining properties, but only the truly desperate ever drink such a pure creature's blood, for even tasting a drop of unicorn's blood leads to a cursed life.

How could he ever become _that_ desperate?

Before he can ask Hecate, she focuses on something else.

"East," she says, causing the door to the parlor to fly open. Tom has never been inside it before, only Ms. Cole, perspective parents, and the child they are looking to adopt are allowed in.

A scene begins to play in this doorway as well.

 _There are two men standing in a dark room (tall ceilings, a beautiful chandelier, and a long black table with matching tables), the younger of the two has greasy black hair, heavily hooded black eyes and a hooked nose, he says something that doesn't appease the elder (he was taller, bald, had slits for nostrils and red eyes. (Somehow, Tom knows this is_ _ **himself**_ _)) but nods nevertheless and says something that makes the younger go pale and stand straighter._

 _Later, he is standing in a wrecked house, a large snake by his side, and the man's dead body before him. He looks at the body, his gaze almost… pitying. He turns, sharply, and begins to leave with the snake still by his side._


End file.
